The morning light of March shone into the window frame with warmth. The light dust flew, and the sandbag slammed the chaotic light dust, then another heavy punch hit it hard. A tall and strong short-haired man punched quickly. As his thick muscles trembled, sweat flowed down the clear muscles of the water chestnuts, wetting the belt.

In the noisy environment around, the rapid hitting of bang bang never stopped.

When Xia Yi walked in, not many people cared about it. He just surrounded the man who beat the sandbag and a woman with a pretty appearance. Her long black hair tied behind her head and tied it into a ponytail. She was wearing uniform rusty red leaves in the martial arts hall, giving people a rare ability and heroic spirit. "No matter whether South Koreans come here to play the hall or not, don't be impulsive, see what the master said."

"Then let me listen to my senior sister."

"......I'm afraid that the senior brother is here today."

"Yes, Master was injured last night, it must be related to South Koreans. He opened the museum next to us. Do you still have good intentions?!"

As you said and said, the man with his upper body made a straight line with his right fist, moving the sandbag backwards, and holding this posture for a moment before he took his hand back. The apprentices around him gradually stopped talking. The big man turned around and took a towel from an apprentice and wiped his sweat. His eyes swept over the woman there intentionally or unintentionally. After the violent boxing, his voice was still full of energy: "Southern Korean sticks are all fancy things. Since we have finished the war book, we can't be afraid to lose our master's face, lose our face in the martial arts school, and don't dare to respond, and those who have nothing to do will get out of here."

Standing in the crowd, Xia Yi recognized this man with an ordinary appearance but full of explosive power. His name is Chang Wu, the senior brother of Zhenxing Martial Arts Hall. When he came here to do chores, he heard that this man had been here since the day the opening of the museum. He had been here for fifteen or sixteen years and had his own industry outside, so he only occasionally went back to the Martial Arts Hall to take a look.

But this tone made Xia Yi feel a little unhappy. He was originally coming to the martial arts school to do odd jobs, so he naturally didn't want to participate in fights and other things. He was about to turn around and leave, but was pulled by a disciple of the martial arts school next to him: "Senior brother is still angry these days. Don't take it to heart. If one more person, we can have more momentum."

"….Okay, I'm here anyway, I'll go sweeping the floor."

Xia Yi thought about it, squeezed through the crowd and headed towards the utility room. If it weren't for the difficulty in finding a job in prison and had no connections after being released from prison, he wouldn't have thought of coming here to do things. But on the other hand, he could barely make a living, after all, this job was given to him. He still understood the principle that he should not forget his roots in life.

"Xia Yi, are you here too?"

When he was holding the broom, an old man in his fifties and wearing a light green jacket came from behind. He was the owner of this martial arts hall. When he saw Xia Yi coming out with the broom, he nodded: "I was injured and my feet were a little inconvenient. They called you over. I'm so sorry. If you don't want to get involved in this kind of thing, I'd better go back. I won't blame you."

"Even if the other party wants to kick the restaurant, it's not my turn." Xia Yi raised the broom in his hand and watched the owner return to the room with a smile. His eyes were focused on the other party's injured right leg. He vaguely felt that the other party's limping and walking seemed to be pretending.

After standing for a while, he turned to the corridor behind and swept the floor.

************

The morning light brushed across the street, and in a golden color, the sycamore trees on the street were swaying new leaves. A black car parked at the door of a nearby bun shop. Two men got off, bought a few small bags and two cups of soy milk, and sat down in a small square not far away. One looked young, with thick eyebrows and thick lips. He looked about twenty-two or three, but he had a relatively calm temperament. The companion next to him was only thirty years old, and he was honest and honest, and was gnawing the buns in his hand. The two of them chatted one by one, but their language seemed not rich.

"A Xu, I heard that the superiors are going to promote you to another group as the team leader?"

"...I'm not aware of things, but someone is spreading them."

"You are leaving, I don't know if the new ones are easy to get along with..."

The young man raised his head slightly, letting the sun shine on his face, driving away a little morning chill, listening to the sound of the leaves stroking in the wind, and then turned around: "The body of the islander was handed over to it with that thing. Today, the islander did not die of being shot and bleeding..."

The companion who was chewing the bun stopped, "Someone killed him before we went down?"

"The forensic examination results in the group, the back of the neck bone was broken... The technique was very clever, at least a skilled person." The young man patted the other party's thigh, looked at Shuye's face, and smiled: "So this matter is not over. I, Dongfang Xu, will definitely not leave like this. As a human being, we must have a beginning and an end, right?"

"Well, we are old colleagues, so stay together more often...what are the people over there?" The man next to him suddenly turned around. The young man named Dongfang Xu looked along his sight. A group of people wearing the words "Share and Taekwondo Hall" said, heading towards a martial arts hall in front.

"It seems that a group of South Koreans are going to kick the front restaurant. Should we take care of it?" a colleague asked.

Dongfang Xu took a sip of soy milk, turned around and stuffed a small bag into his mouth, "There are naturally policed ​​by the police. We have our own responsibilities. Don't cross the line. Hurry up and finish breakfast and patrol the next area."

A breeze with the cold spring blows here, and when it blows a sign on the dilapidated residential building of the country, a violent vibration comes from below, and the door plaque with the words "Zhenxing Martial Arts Hall" is trembling.

With a bang.

The two open wooden doors were kicked open. Xia Yi, who was sweeping the floor, walked out with a broom. He saw the people from the martial arts hall quickly approaching and looking at the fifteen South Koreans coming in, wearing their shoes and stepping on the smooth floor. The only woman in the martial arts hall, Ma Lin, looked at the other person's feet, frowned and shouted: "Take off the shoes!"

Some of the disciples in the martial arts school wanted to step forward, but hesitated for a while, but still didn't step out. There were also voices among them shouting indignantly: "Blow out these dogs!" Some people put on practice fists: "What are you talking to them when you break into the door? Let's beat them up before you talk."

In the surging voice, Chang Wu raised his hand and told everyone not to speak. He took off his boxing gloves and stood shoulder to shoulder with the woman. He glanced at the other party, wrapped his hands around, and looked down at the person who was kicking the shop opposite like a mountain. "Since you are here to kick the shop, then I won't say much, who will come first-"

"We understand the rules of kicking the house." The South Korean led by the leader is in his twenties, with yellow hair mixed with black, long face, but a round chin, and his Chinese words are a bit awkward, "It's not that you fight, but that we will choose!"

He stretched out his finger and stroked everyone: "You... and you... and this lady..." He directly passed by his senior brother Chang Wu, and pointed out the three younger disciples in the martial arts hall, including his senior sister Ma Lin.

"What's the point of bullying a woman? I'll pick me!" Chang Wu took a half step and almost touched the other side.

The South Korean laughed and bowed politely to him, "Your Excellency is brave and has the majesty of my great Korean, but the kicking party has always been proposed by one side, so there is another one in three games and two wins in this three-game game..." He straightened up and pointed to the back of the crowd, "That disciple of the Youth Pavilion who holds a broom."
Chapter completed!